


Soon You'll Get Better

by likehandlingroses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discussions of death, Gen, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 14:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: Whether it's her son's illness or her own, Hope Lupin isn't good at facing things head on. Neither is Remus. Nevertheless, they find their own ways to communicate their feelings and fears with each other.





	Soon You'll Get Better

Hope’s parents had called her dreamy, always with a fond--if bemused--tone. Her first boss had referred to it as “unfocused,” before requesting she be transferred. 

In any case, Hope knew people saw her as vague and noncommittal. They had no idea of how sharply she perceived things, how crisp certain emotions felt as they passed through her. It was all she could do to pretend, for everyone else’s sake, that she didn’t feel as deeply as she did. 

Even Lyall didn’t understand why she collected records like they were jewels, why she had music playing from the moment she started her day. How could she explain to her mild and agreeable husband that the music organized her emotions, set them on a course to comprehension? The silence left her feeling scattered and indistinct, and she couldn’t live that way. 

Especially now that Remus had been bitten, and none of the “discreet” healers or “experimental” remedies had done a thing but frighten him. If she left her feelings to her own devices  _ now _ …

It wasn’t an option. Remus was too much like her; if he caught on to her fear, there’d be no going back. He needed to believe harder than anyone that everything would be just fine, and it was her job to convince him of that. 

“What do we want to listen to this morning?” she asked as Remus clambered into his chair, wincing as he settled into the seat. 

“Dusty!” he exclaimed, shooting her that warm, eager smile that tempered even her worst fears. 

“Oh, it’s a  _ Wishin’ And Hopin’ _ morning, is it?” she laughed. In another moment the record was playing, and she was ready to start on breakfast. 

Sometimes, she and Remus would talk over the music, but this was rare. They both found themselves too distracted by the melodies, too pulled by a particular lyric. They harmonized by going about their morning as quietly and evenly as they could, letting the music color their actions in whatever way it chose. 

Only today, Hope could hardly hear the music over her own thoughts. They were only three days away from the next full moon--the second since Remus had been bitten. Hope--eager to comfort and reassure her son that they would surely find something that would help--hadn’t done a thing to prepare him for it. 

What else could she have done? He’d been so frightened...and he was so young. Too little to understand that he wasn’t in trouble, that there wasn’t anything else for them to do. It felt too callous, too cold, to tell Remus about the next time he’d be locked in the attic and left in the dark.

But as she caught a shadowy glimpse of her own face in the window above the sink, she felt only self-revulsion over the decision. She wasn’t protecting  _ Remus  _ from anything by putting on a smile and acting as though a cure might be just around the corner...she was protecting herself from facing the truth. 

_ You’re a grown-up, _ she thought to herself, filled with hatred at her own cowardice. _ You have to start acting like it.  _

“Mummy!” Remus’s voice made her jump. “Mummy! This one hurts!”

As Hope turned on her heel, the eerie, uneven weight of Dusty Springfield’s cover of “You Don’t Own Me,” thudded against the walls, its dark edges mixing with the smell of burning eggs. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, over and over, hurrying first to the record player and then to the ruined breakfast. The sink was still running--she couldn’t remember what she’d turned it on for. She tapped it off and turned to Remus, who was holding a hand to his chest with concern.

“What’s hurting?” she asked, kneeling down beside him. 

“That song made my heart jump…” Remus explained. 

“Let me feel?” Hope held out a hand, letting Remus press it to his chest. She could indeed feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest...not an uncommon occurrence in the past few weeks. “Oh, I see...that’s okay. It’ll settle down in a moment. Take a breath...there you go. Already better, isn’t it?”

Remus knelt his head down towards his chest, as if it would help him assess the situation more clearly, then nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s better,” he said, giving her an encouraging smile. “It’s okay now, Mummy…”

God, but he was sweet as anything...Hope kissed his forehead before standing. 

“I’ll get some more eggs made up for you,” she said, taking a deep breath of her own. “I don’t know what I was thinking...I’m being silly this morning, aren’t I?”

She smiled at him, wrinkling her nose. Remus looked content with waiting a bit longer for his breakfast, though he quickly asked his mother if she’d please, please play “the Me and You Beatles Song?”

It was one of Remus’s favorites, probably because it allowed him to point to the “me” and “you” repeatedly throughout the song. His enthusiasm was infectious, and it quelled some of Hope’s guilt. 

He was--after everything--still perfectly capable of finding his own happiness. 

* * *

_ “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone?” _

“Hope! Hope!”

Hope took in a deep breath before turning off Joni Mitchell’s fervent guitar strumming. She looked at her husband through the mirror, trying not to notice how thin and pale they had both become. 

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” she said, eyes dropping down from her reflection as she searched for her second earring. 

“Hope…” The break in Lyall’s voice stopped Hope’s hands in their tracks, though she didn’t dare look back into the mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten the results?”

Hope closed her eyes. 

“Just because I hadn’t shown you yet doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to,” she said. “ And I don’t know why you went looking in my mail…”

“It was sitting out…” Lyall sounded apologetic. “I thought you’d meant for me to find it.”

Hope inserted her earring while keeping her eyes off of the mirror. No easy task, especially with shaking hands...but she managed it, in time. 

“Of course, it wasn’t a secret…” Hope murmured, implicitly confirming Lyall’s suspicions. “We already knew I wasn’t well...it’s why we had the test in the first place...so I don’t see what difference it…one test or another, there was bound to be...” 

She trailed off, shutting her jewelry box with more ferocity than she’d meant. 

“Do you have another appointment?”

Hope sighed. “Of course I do. It’s all being arranged.” 

She chanced a glance into the corner of the mirror where Lyall’s figure stood. He was looking aimlessly about the bedroom, finally landing on her face in the mirror. Hope let her gaze follow his, catching her own eye for a moment.

“If you want me to...I can talk to Remus,” he said, clearing his throat. “About everything.”

Hope now couldn’t look away from how tight her face looked, how awfully her lips were pursed, how sharp and unattractive her stare had become. 

“I’m perfectly capable of talking to my own son, thank you,” she said, her voice clipped and cold and older, somehow, than it had ever been before. 

But when she saw Remus clambering off the train, laughing loudly at a joke one of his new friends had made, any thought of telling him left Hope’s mind.

“You’re so big…” she said, clutching Remus to her chest. One of the boys waved at her before being pulled into a hug by his own mother. “I missed you so much…”

“Missed you, Mum.”

For a moment, she was bright and warm and young again, holding her son tight against her. However, the slight knit in his brow as he looked into her face after pulling away made her feel cold all over again. 

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, whatever gave you the idea that I wasn’t?” Her smile felt unnatural--it too had become tight and pinched.

“Now: tell me all about everything…” she said as they walked off to the car. 

* * *

_ “Just call on me, and I’ll send it along...with love from me to you…” _

“Mum?” Remus peeked his head into the sitting room. “I brought James for tea, if that’s alright.”

“Of course!” Hope sat up straighter on the sofa, doing her best to ignore the dizziness. She smiled as Remus and James properly entered the room. They were young men, now...and both of them so impressive, in their own way. James was going to be married, in a few weeks’ time...she had to remind Lyall to pick up their gift…

“James, it’s so nice to see you,” she said. “I’m always telling Remus to bring his friends ‘round.”

“I guess he listens sometimes, then? Who’d have thought it?” James said with a grin, holding out a bouquet of violets. “For you, Mrs. L.”

“They’re beautiful! Thank you, James. Remus, would you…?”

Remus took the flowers from Hope and carried them off to find a vase. Hope patted the seat beside her, and James sat down without hesitation.

“Remus might have given me some clues about which ones you like…” he said with a laugh. 

“He’s a sweet boy...and so are you.”

Hope was fond of all of Remus’s friends, but she liked James the best. Perhaps--selfishly--it was because he’d never looked frightened by her illness. That ease in his manner came at a dreadful cost: his own mother had died six months ago; after a prolonged illness, it seemed likely his father wouldn’t be around much longer, either. 

Still, it was comforting, to not have to deal with Peter’s pale stammering, with Sirius’s constant movements as he tried to act unbothered. She understood, of course. They were young and kind, and those were the worst sort of people to shove illness and death at. What a dreadful thing, to make them face decline before their time...and yet, Hope preferred James for the fact that he’d didn’t seem at all frightened of her. It helped. 

He could help Remus, too, she thought. When the time came. 

“How are you feeling today?” James asked, as if he was merely inquiring about what books she’d been reading. 

“Oh, very well, actually,” Hope said. “Best I’ve been all week, I think.”

“That’s fantastic,” James grinned. “Will we be seeing Mr. L?”

“Oh, yes, he just ran to pick up some things from town. He’ll be back for tea.”

In the beat of silence that followed, Hope decided she hated the record that was playing. The Beatles made the whole world feel old, and sometimes that was a comfort.

Sometimes it wasn’t.

“James, would you do me a favor?” she asked. “Put something new on...this one is making me sad, for some reason.” 

“Anything for you, Mrs. L,” James said, leaping up and striding over to the record player. 

But he fumbled with the pile of records, finally calling Remus over from the sink and asking him for advice. Remus made quick work of the selection, and in another minute, Carole King was playing. 

“That alright for you, Mrs. L?” James said. 

“Perfect, thank you,” Hope replied, looking at Remus. “She’s Remus’s favorite.”

“Yours too,” Remus said with a smile. Hope held out a hand. 

“Come here…” she said, and Remus joined her on the sofa, holding her hand in his. James had picked up the violets where Remus had left them, busying himself with finding the best spot for them on the windowsills. 

“You’ll be alright…” she whispered, brushing Remus’s hair back from his forehead and wishing he were small again, just for a moment. Just so she could remember how exactly it had felt. 

“So will you,” he said, and Hope could hear the need in his voice. A rare occurrence. Remus wasn’t given to pleading, to demanding things that hadn’t first been offered. 

And Hope wouldn’t--couldn’t--say no. 

“Of course I will…” she said, squeezing his hand. “How could I not?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is based on the Taylor Swift song "Soon You'll Get Better."


End file.
